


The Summoning

by aunt_zelda



Category: Belial and Reno
Genre: Bloodplay, Demon Sex, Demon Summoning, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Rough Sex, Scratching, Threats of Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-28
Updated: 2014-04-28
Packaged: 2018-01-21 03:02:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1535129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aunt_zelda/pseuds/aunt_zelda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Reno summons a demon and gets more than he could have hoped for. Way, way more.</p><p> </p><p>
  <i>The skulls had been the hardest thing to find ...</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Summoning

**Author's Note:**

> So recently there's been this art on tumblr, featuring a scruffy guy called Reno and a giant skull-faced demon called Belial. Reno summons Belial, and proceeds to get fucked in every which way and he loves it and Belial loves playing with this adorable human. 
> 
> It's really hot if you're into that kind of thing. Everyone else is drawing them and I can't draw, but I can write. So I have written this. 
> 
> captainhanni said it was fine, so here is a fanfic, detailing the events depicted in this art set:   
> http://captainhanni.tumblr.com/post/82988806055
> 
>  
> 
> (Reno is incredibly into the proceedings, but Belial probably doesn't care about novel human concepts like 'consent,' hence the "mildly dubious consent" tag.)

The skulls had been the hardest thing to find.

Well, the skulls and the diagrams. The diagrams Reno had found from combing old bookstores and library archives. It had been difficult, but he couldn’t trust anything on the internet about demon summoning. Most of it was complete crap: every demon he googled turned up at least three heavy metal bands before any academic resources. But there were some legit sites, that cited books, and those were the books that Reno spent his time tracking down.

He’d bought a few, for impressively low sums of money, and stolen some others, though calling it “stealing” was a bit of a stretch as he’d just stuffed the books into his satchel and walked out of the library, and the alarms hadn’t gone off because the books were too old to have been given tattle tape. 

Still, Reno liked to think of it as stealing. It gave him a bit of a thrill, thinking of stealing secret tomes of dark power. It conjured images of daring escapes from heavily guarded fortresses in the night. Not slouching into a college library basement at 10am and slouching out again into a tour group of prospective students. 

The skulls had been tricky. The texts had been very specific: not just any old goat skull, but a wild goat skull from the “Holy Land.” Preferably bleached by the sun and sands of time. 

Reno had wasted a lot of money on plastic fakes and scams on ebay before finally obtaining what he needed. 

After that, things were relatively simple. Black paint (art supplies store), strategic candles (desk drawer, leftovers from his sixth or seventh roommate last year), and the symbols.

Reno was very, very careful about painting the symbols. He had to get them just right. If even a squiggle was off, it wouldn’t work, or it’d explode in his face, or burn the apartment down, or summon something … else.

The texts had been unclear, but apparently summoning the wrong thing by accident wasn’t just a bad idea, it was something the summoner never survived. 

Reno crouched on the floor, tongue sticking out in concentration as he embellished the outer circle, tracing the black paint in a thicker line. The skull’s empty eyes sockets were shrouded in shadows (the power was out, again, because stupid electricity bills) and they seemed to mock him, with their half-jaw smiles. If he failed …

Reno shook himself and stood up. No. He’d come too far to back down now. If he failed … well, he’d at least know some of it had been real.

He read the incantation from the book, walking around the circle he’d painted onto the floor. The candles flickered as Reno walked past them, casting elongated shadows against the walls of the apartment. 

The chant complete, he snapped the book shut and set it aside.

And waited.

And waited.

Reno heard a car drive past outside on the street. Distantly, sirens wailed. 

Just as the stabs of disappointment began to well up, the apartment was filled with a blast of blindingly white light. Clouds of white smoke billowed from the circle. Something (Reno had trouble seeing at this point, his eyes streaming from the sudden brightness) emerged from the floor, shooting up like a rocket. And it was roaring.

Reno stared, as the light began to fade and the clouds of smoke dissipate. He felt his hair ruffling, blown back by the sudden gust of air. He reached up, partly to shield his eyes and partly to run his fingers through his tousled hair. Slowly, Reno’s vision began to clear. 

It was the King of Hell. Belial, the enormous goat-like demon with a skull for a face. Standing in Reno’s living room. Smoke billowed off of his fur. His shoulders flexed, his back-curved legs stamped against the floorboards. 

“You are the mortal who has brought me to this realm?” Belial asked, voice flickering with a myriad of accents. Perhaps he was unused to talking, because he coughed, and the next time he spoke he had selected an accent. 

“Oh my gosh, oh my gosh!” Reno squeaked, clapping his hands to his face. “It worked! You’re real! The King of Hell is in my house!”

He stared, and stared up, because Belial was very tall. He cut an impressive figure, covered in shaggy dark fur all over, tufted tail flicking in the air, and that _skull face_ , shining in the candlelight, twin black pits for eyes, looking down at him.

Reno felt so small, so pathetic, in the demon’s presence. 

And it was _awesome_.

“You’re not one of those Satan fanboys, are you?” Belial sounded mildly annoyed, like groupies were just another part of his job he’d come to put up with over the years. 

“I mean … I’ve read about you in books but … it doesn’t even come close to the real thing … you’re so …” Reno knew he was babbling, like an idiot. He tried to calm himself, get a handle on his breathing. 

Which was when Belial leaned down and put one of his massive, clawed, long-fingered hands against Reno’s face.

“Starstuck, are we?” he rumbled, tilting his massive head sideways. 

And Reno forgot all about how he hadn’t showered for three days, and his eyes were like a raccoon’s from the lack of sleep, and his stubble was reaching dangerously scruffy levels, and laundry day was a distant memory … because Belial, the King of Hell, was _touching him_. And it felt _so good_. Chills weren’t just running down Reno’s spine, they were running all over the damn place. 

Reno gulped, and Belial’s enormous hand encircled his throat. Not quite squeezing, but with a bit of pressure in the grip. Those slender claws were deceptively strong, and Reno knew he couldn’t break away even if he’d wanted to. (He didn’t want to.)

He felt a blush coloring his cheeks and neck and ears, swallowed about fifty other things he wanted to babble about, and settled for just looking up at the dark eye sockets of the goat skull face. 

“Cute,” Belial pronounced, and looked Reno over for a few minutes. 

Reno’s heart was pounding so hard he felt like it was about to burst out of his chest. It was taking every ounce of his control to just stay silent and still under that eyeless gaze, but somehow he managed it.

At least, until Belial shifted, and flung Reno down onto the floor.

Then Reno could speak.

“Ow! Fuck, what the …” Reno fell silent again, because Belial was on him, straddling him, fumbling with the buttons and zipper on his black jeans. 

His claws were useless at the task, and after discovering that, Belial snorted and nudged Reno’s face with a single claw. “Undress yourself, or I will rip your garments from you.”

Reno felt blood dripping down his cheek, and reached to start taking off his pants. 

It never occurred to him to disobey. 

“This is new,” Belial commented, shaking out the black hoodie before tossing it away. “Mmm, but this is not,” Belial trapped Reno’s cock between two claws. Their sharpness was unnerving, as was the strength that such slender fingers should not have been able to sustain.

Reno’s breath caught in his throat. This was Belial, the King of Hell. He could sever Reno’s cock on a whim, and there was nothing Reno could do about it.

“Thousands of years, and yet still you have a man at your mercy if you grab him by his cock.” Belial snorted again, differently, and Reno thought it might be some kind of laugh.

“I could, um, banish you?” he suggests.

“If you even remember how.” Belial shook his head, horns casting sickening shadows, “You could not manage it before I took away this little thing, as a parting gift.” 

There was a flash of tongue, over the bottom of the skull. Was he licking his lips?

“More fun if it’s still attached to me,” Reno dared a smile. He _really_ didn’t want to lose his cock. Then he’d have to make a t-shirt that read ‘I summoned the King of Hell and he stole my penis and all I got was this lousy t-shirt’ and that was far too wordy for a pithy t-shirt.

“For you, yes, but for me? Your body has other areas to explore. I would not be bored for long, I assure you … human.” Belial paused. “What is thy name?”

Reno felt a stab of fear. Never give your True Name to a demon. That was like, rule #1 in any magical scenario, ever. King of Hell or not, Reno wasn’t sure he was ready to throw every caution to the wind.

Then again, how much worse could things get for him? Belial had him by the balls, literally; he could destroy Reno with out without his True Name. 

“You can tell me now, or later, I care not.” Belial shrugged, and dragged his claws up Reno’s chest. He left five bloody scratches as he went, and pain spiked through Reno’s body. “You will tell me, though. I know how to drive a human’s body to the heights of ecstasy, and leave them trembling on the edge, begging my permission to leap into the abyss. And they always thank me, after I have broken them completely.” Belial pressed against the joint of Reno’s right shoulder, pressing until Reno heard the bones creak. “Why not make things easier on yourself?”

Reno stared into the places where eyes should have been. “I don’t like it easy.” He jutted out his chin defiantly, fully aware that the action exposed this vulnerable throat.

Belial paused.

Then he threw back his head and laughed. 

Reno did tell Belial his True Name eventually. By that point, he was too far gone to care about the power Belial held over him magically, with the aid of Reno’s True Name. The power that Belial held over him physically, sexually, mentally, those were the instances that Reno was most concerned with from then on out. And even then, it was concern in the sense of “how soon can I get hard again” rather than entertaining ridiculous ideas like trying to send Belial back to Hell, or stop his advances in any way. 

Belial had not been boasting when he had promised to drag Reno to the heights of ecstasy and leave him squirming and begging for more. He had not exaggerated when he had claimed that he would make Reno plead, and that Reno would enjoy every second of it. 

Belial was absolutely terrifying: insatiable, creative, and increasingly sadistic the more intensities Reno proved he could endure. Belial never slept and was never far, always trailing after Reno, invisible to everyone else and heedless of how Reno appeared in public should he strike up a conversation, or start receiving an invisible blowjob. 

Reno was beyond “in over his head.” Reno had no idea how to stop this. Belial didn’t seem to be showing any signs of wanting to go away.

Reno was so ridiculously happy.

**Author's Note:**

> The characters of Belial and Reno belong to captainhanni over on tumblr. You can find the art here: http://captainhanni.tumblr.com/ and here: http://badhanni.tumblr.com/   
> If you like the characters, please follow the blogs!


End file.
